


Closer to Recovery

by Rynmoirai



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Gen, Recovery, References to Depression, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 14:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12082782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynmoirai/pseuds/Rynmoirai
Summary: Vax’ildan’s words had pulled him back from the brink, pulled him back from the edge he was ready to dive head-first off of—but they have not been enough to save him from himself. Kynan’s hero had given him the second chance he thought he deserved, but did he actually deserve it? All of these responsibilities have been piled upon his back, and he feels himself bending and straining under their weight.How was he supposed to carry them all when he’s so broken inside? It’s all becoming too much, too quickly.





	Closer to Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Critical Role Rarepair Week on Tumblr!
> 
> Technically written for Day 1 as a non-romantic pairing, but there's a bit of Cass/Kynan and Jarett/Kynan if you squint. ;)

Kynan walks along one of the many paths of Whitestone, his head hung low, eyes on the ground. His insides are all twisted up—a nervous knot in the pit of his stomach that never quite goes away, no matter how many reassurances or words of encouragement he receives. Some days are easier than others, but this is not one of them. His footfalls are clumsy even as he continues to walk forward, and the lead at the bottom of his stomach threatens to open up, to become that darkened void he knows so well.

Vax’ildan’s words had pulled him back from the brink, pulled him back from the edge he was ready to dive head-first off of—but they have not been enough to save him from himself. Kynan’s hero had given him the second chance he thought he deserved, but did he actually deserve it? All of these responsibilities have been piled upon his back, and he feels himself bending and straining under their weight.

How was he supposed to carry them all when he’s so broken inside? It’s all becoming too much, too quickly.

He pushes the tavern doors open, dark brown eyes scanning the room for the one who asked him here—Jarett Howarth, once his mentor, now his friend. When he sees Riflemen and Pale Guard alike surrounding Jarett, drinking deeply from their mugs of ale, he finds himself straightening his back and squaring his shoulders absentmindedly. It’s a habit he’s picked up from Jarett himself; he knows he has to be more confident in their presence, to be the leader they think he is, even if it feels fake.

“There you are, my friend,” Jarett says welcomingly, clapping a companionable hand on Kynan’s shoulder once he’s close enough. “We were afraid you had gotten lost.” The words are teasing, and Jarett’s dark eyebrows raise playfully with them. Kynan can feel his face growing slightly pink out of embarrassment, eyes avoiding everyone at the table.

“My apologies, I must have gotten sidetracked.” Kynan’s reply is perfect, eloquent even, but the cold pit in his stomach still twists with guilt and much, much more.

“It is no problem,” Jarett answers smoothly, pressing a cup into Kynan’s hand. The liquid inside is a deep amber and smells strong. The fingers on Kynan’s shoulder squeeze comfortingly, and he knows he’s been exposed; Jarett always seems to know when he’s in one of his moods. “Just try to have fun tonight, yes? Though do not get too sloppy—Lady Cassandra said she’d be by for a bit.”

Kynan quickly tries to hide the nervousness suddenly peeking through his practiced facade by ducking behind the mug in his hand, mind going a mile a minute. One of the Riflemen to his left laughs and rocks the table, and it nearly makes him jump out of his skin. He sees Lady Cassandra nearly every day, and yet her presence still has such an affect on him—not that he would ever tell her so, of course. It was inappropriate on so many levels.

Before he knows it, his cup is empty and being refilled by one of the Pale Guards, who throws him a wink. With it, the knot churning in his abdomen loosens ever so slightly. Another one cracks a joke to him and he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. The alcohol makes him feel warm, and the atmosphere makes him feel welcome.

It’s strange.

An hour passes, and Kynan already realizes that he’s so far in over his head in this situation. They’ve got him talking and now he won’t stop, but it seems like they’re all revelling in it—some of them more drunkenly than others. Jarett throws one arm over his shoulder and lets out a hearty laugh at his expense, though he finds that he doesn’t mind so much. It’s a good sound; hell, all the chatter at the table has been good, even his own, he finds.

“Cassandra!” Jarett shouts directly in Kynan’s ear, his free hand waving their Lady over frantically. Kynan’s head snaps around to look at her, and he watches as she runs a nervous, shaky hand down the front of her dress. Her hair is tied up and away from her face, though a few stray strands of silver curl around her ears. She looks wholly out of place, though the way she glides through the room towards them nearly makes Kynan’s head spin.

“Good evening, everyone,” she greets the table formally, her hands behind her back to keep from fidgeting in front of them. Jarett reaches across Kynan to pull the other seat out next to him—wait, someone was definitely sitting there before. Where have they gone?

“Can we get you a drink, my Lady?” Jarett asks smoothly, cracking that half-grin that makes him who he is. The corners of Cassandra’s lips turn up ever so slightly into the smallest of smiles.

“Yes, please. Whatever you all are having.” Jarett nudges Kynan until he’s somehow pouring her drink, fumbling for the pitcher and glass. He hands it to her with dumb, sluggish fingers, though she doesn’t seem to notice, accepting it with grace. “It’s nice to see you all together like this.” She looks at the two of them with a crooked smile, her blue eyes alight with mirth.

“It eases the soul in these trying times,” Jarett replies, pulling away from Kynan to pour himself another ale. “It’s good to get away from your troubles, if even for one night, I think.” Although it is a general statement, Kynan can feel that it’s directed towards him. The pit in his stomach loosens another fraction—though its talons still hold deep within his flesh.

“Yes,” Cassandra agrees with a soft look, sipping on her drink. She tries to hide the grimace that it brings to her face, but only mostly succeeds.

“It’s not so bad once you get used to it,” Kynan says, the words surprising himself whence they leave his lips. Cass sends him a look of amusement before trying to swallow another mouthful.

“Are you sure?” she mutters under her breath, causing Jarett to burst into laughter—Kynan and Cass herself not far behind him. She then turns fully to Kynan and gives him her most radiant smile, and he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he deserves to be here, in this moment, and not scattered under the ground.


End file.
